Cat's Cradle
by Bluehaven4220
Summary: Maggie Chisholm comes to work at UNIT with the Doctor, but what happens when she catches Sergeant Benton's eye? 3rd Doctor era, Benton/OC
1. A Quick History Lesson

**Title: Cat's Cradle**

**Author: Bluehaven4220**

**Summary: Maggie Chisholm comes to work at UNIT with the Doctor, but what happens when she catches Sergeant Benton's eye?**

**Reviews: Always welcome and very much appreciated**

**A/N: Maggie Chisholm is my own creation. She was introduced in 'Musically Inclined' as Jamie McCrimmon's niece. As such, Maggie (and her history, friends, and family) belong to me. Please ask if you'd like to use her for anything. Special thanks to ninewood for all her help. I truly appreciate it.**

**ooOoo**

_A man has no more character than he can command in a time of crisis- Anonymous_

John Benton walked through the hallway toward the laboratory, threading his beret through the lapel on his shoulder. By order of the Brigadier he was to escort a young woman the Doctor had brought back with him to be interviewed. Apparently the Doctor wanted her as an assistant, but as with all personnel, she needed to be "rigorously screened and scrupulously filed". _Of course she did, because the Brigadier was only following protocol_, he thought to himself. _And pigs have learned to fly, oh happy day_.

"Miss Chisholm?" he looked up from his file to see her prone on her back, fiddling with a wrench.

"Yes?" she sat up and ran her fingers down the wrench.

"The Brigadier wants to see you now."

Maggie rolled her eyes, set the tool back on the ground, and got to her feet. Dusting her knees, she walked toward Benton and followed him toward the Brigadier's office.

"So what's your name?" she asked.

"Benton, Miss..." he answered.

"That's it, just Benton?" she chuckled, crossing her arms in front of her.

"No, you could call me Sergeant."

"Sergeant Benton?"

"Name and rank, Miss," he acknowledged the title. Nothing said was said until they reached the Brigadier's office, where he waited outside the door while he interrogated her, gave her a pass, and instructed Benton to take her back to the laboratory.

"So Miss…"

"Please, my name is Maggie," she smiled at him. "Miss Chisholm sounds so formal and stuffy. Just call me Maggie."

They returned to the laboratory to see the Doctor.

"Ah Maggie, there you are," he greeted her. "I need you over here now. If you would just hold that there while I adjust this…" he looked over to see Benton at the door. "That'll be all, Sergeant, thank you."

Benton cleared his throat, thought better of saying something, and went out.

"So then, Maggie, what did the Brigadier want?"

"Wanted me to sign a whole bunch of papers," she answered, her brow arched. "Something about official secrets acts and privacy agreements. I don't understand all of it, but I signed them."

"I shouldn't worry about it, my dear," he smiled. "It's just so he knows you won't be spilling everything they want to keep from the general public."

"But I don't know that much, what danger could I possibly pose to whatever it is?"

"There's no need to worry, hand me that silicone rod there." Using it to stir his tea, he set the mug down and went back to his work.

"Do you still need me here tonight or can I head home for the night?"

"No no it's alright, my dear. You head home and get some rest."

Maggie nodded and rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah… rest." She blinked, got her bag packed, and made her way to the parking lot.

"Miss Chisholm!" she heard as she made her way down the drive.

She turned to see Sergeant Benton standing at his car. "Can I give you a lift home?"

"No thanks," she answered a little too quickly. "I don't live far, no need to worry."

"It's dark and it's cold, I must insist…"

"I don't take well to insisting, Sergeant," there was a definite tone to her voice. "Thank you for the offer, but I really don't need it. Good night sir."

"If you're sure!" he called to her.

"I'm sure, now leave me be!" she called back over her shoulder, not daring to stop.

"Good night then," he mumbled as he watched her walk away.

**ooOoo**

It took her a good twenty minutes, but she reached her 'home' without incident. Well, 'home' could really only be described as 'hovel'. It was not in a part of town that one would want to be in at night, especially with the types of people that had a reputation for hanging in her doorway. Still, it was cheap, and a place to lay her head.

"Hello lovely," one called to her, blocking her way to the door. "Fancy a quickie?"

Maggie, not yet familiar with 20th century terminology, politely declined and asked for him to move.

"Naw, I don't think so," he barred the door with his arm, leaning close so that his nose very nearly touched her face. "I wasn't asking, either, and when I don't get what I want…" he kissed her cheek. "Things get ugly real fast." Red rimmed eyes and rotting teeth were enough to start her shaking, and when one dirty hand made it's way up her skirt, she screamed.

She heard rushing footsteps and felt someone push their way between her and her assailant. Shielded by his back, she couldn't see who it was.

"I believe the lady asked you to leave."

"Bugger off," the man growled at her savior.

She heard the familiar sound of a gun being drawn. "She asked you to leave, sir, and I suggest you do it."

With his hands up at the gun pointed in his face, Maggie's would-be assailant backed away. "Hey, there's for violence! I'm going!"

Once he'd gone, Maggie saw the gun reholstered, and her protector turn around.

"Are you alright, Miss Chisholm?"

Her vision cleared. Her brain registered that the man standing in front of her was Sergeant Benton, and, exhausted, she collapsed in his arms. Shaking, she couldn't bring herself to answer his question.

"Come on, I'll take you back to UNIT."

They got back into Benton's car, and drove back to UNIT in silence. Once in the parking lot, he stopped, opened the door, went around the other side, and opened the passenger side door.

"Miss Chisholm?" he leaned into the passenger side. "Can you stand?"

"Yes…" she got out of the car, almost blindly groping for Benton. He was real, something she could hold on to, for if she did not, she was sure her legs would give out from under her.

Putting an arm around her, he felt her stumble.

"Come on, Miss, I'll carry you in," he bent and lifted her with such ease she almost couldn't believe it. He didn't look that strong, at least not to the naked eye. It didn't take them long to reach the laboratory again.

"Is that you, Sergeant?" she heard as the Doctor turned from his equipment to see the two of them coming into view. "Good grief, what's happened?"

"Miss Chisholm was very nearly assaulted," he answered, setting her down on a bench the Doctor had laid out.

"Oh my dear…" he took a small penlight out of the breast pocket of his jacket and checked her pupil dilation. "Sergeant, I think the Brigadier is still here."

"Shall I fetch him, Doctor?"

"If you would, Sergeant," the Doctor didn't turn, moved his finger in front of Maggie's eyes.

"No!" Maggie nearly shouted, startling them both.

"Why not?"

"He doesn't… I can't…" she stammered.

"He has to know about this, Maggie, you're his responsibility same as everyone else here."

"I know but…"

"And as a member of UNIT you're entitled to respect, and what has happened to you is unacceptable. I'll go and fetch him, Doctor, and see what he has to say about this." Benton turned on his heel and went out the door, leaving Maggie and the Doctor to talk.

Pulling up a chair in front of her, the Doctor handed her a tissue. "What happened, my dear?"

Maggie wiped at her eyes, still shaking.

"I was on my way home when this man…"

The Doctor nodded.

"He blocked my way to my door and asked me if I wanted a quickie. I don't know what that is so I said no thank you."

"And then what happened?"

"And then he tried to touch me."

"And that's when Sergeant Benton stepped in?"

"Once he heard me screaming, yes," Maggie answered. "Then he threatened the man off and brought me back here."

"I see," the Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Well I'm very glad you weren't hurt my dear. What of all your things though?"

"They're still at my apartment…"

She'd been on the verge of asking if he'd accompany her back so she could at least pack a few essentials and find suitable accommodation for the night, though if she had to she could sleep standing up in the laboratory, when the Brigadier came barging in to the laboratory, hastily acknowledged the Doctor and demanded to know what had happened exactly.

"I've just told the whole thing to the Doctor. Must I say it again?"

"Yes I'm afraid so," the Brigadier answered, listening patiently as Maggie sobbed her way through yet another account of her near assault and Benton's rescue.

The Brigadier turned to Benton, cleared his throat. "Well done Old Man."

"Thank you sir." While he never wanted to take credit for doing something anyone with a conscience would do, he forced himself to hide a smile for being praised, and from the Brigadier no less. "What do you suggest we do about this?"

The Brigadier cleared his throat. "Miss Chisholm, I'd like for you to stay the night here."

"But all my things are still there."

"Now don't worry Maggie," the Doctor placed an arm around her shoulder. "I have clothes and toiletries in the TARDIS."

"Good. And Miss Chisholm? I want you to see a medical doctor in the morning."

"Yes sir."

"Sergeant Benton?"

"Sir?"

"I'd like for you to stay the night as well. I'm going to need full accounts from both of you."

"Yes sir."

They waited to speak until the Brigadier left, politely asking the Doctor if they could have a word in private.

"If you're sure Maggie."

"Yes Doctor I'm sure. We won't be too long."

"Very well. I'll go see if the Brigadier wants my help with those reports he wants you to fill out."

And quickly as the Brigadier, he left the two of them standing alone in the laboratory.

"I wanted to thank you," Maggie spoke first.

"Think nothing of it, Miss," Benton insisted. "Just doing my duty."

"Well, duty or not…" she offered him her hand, and just as he took it, she approached him and gently kissed his cheek.

When she pulled away, Benton looked at her with shocked eyes.

"Ah… um… thank you."

"For what? I don't deserve to be thanked. You're the one who saved me."

"Yes well, I wasn't about to stand there and let him hurt you."

Muttering something about worse things happening, Maggie cleared her throat. "Right. Well… I'm going to… leave now. Left something in the…" she turned and left Benton standing there confused.

She wandered around the corridors, not looking for anything in particular when she bumped into the Doctor.

"Maggie, what are you doing? You should be resting."

"Rest? No such thing as rest. I don't need rest…" she lurched forward and cast her eyes upward. "Excuse me…" she rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Once again, she wretched and heaved her stomach contents into the toilet bowl.

"Oh dear…" the Doctor knocked smartly on the door. "Maggie, do you need some help?"

"No, I'm fine!" she wretched again, waited for the feeling to pass. She wretched several more times, each time expelling more into the toilet bowl.

Breathing heavily, she called for the Doctor to come in, asking if he would help her to the sink so she could wash her mouth out. Once she was able to do so, he asked her if she was indeed alright.

"Yes Doctor, it just happens after."

"How do you mean?"

Maggie swished water and spit it down the drain. "I mean it's happened before."

"Oh I see…"

"No you don't see Doctor, that's not what I mean."

He waited until she composed herself enough to stand, even if she was incredibly shaky on her feet.

"I was nearly raped when I was fourteen years old."

He caught her as her knees gave out from vomiting so much.

"Easy girl, let's get you to a chair." The Doctor took her by the arm and led her into another room. Sitting her down with a glass of water, he pulled up a chair in front of her. Once she'd set the water down, he took her hands in his. "Now, I wasn't sure if I heard you correctly. What happened when you were fourteen?"

"I was nearly raped."

"By whom?"

"His name was Robbie. He was one of my father's tenants and…"

The Doctor gently squeezed her hand. "What did he do?"

"He'd had his eye on me for a while and kept making untoward advances toward me. Every other day he'd ask me for a kiss, or something equally unappetizing. Trust me, I had no interest in him. Frankly he made my skin crawl. Something about him was just… off." It seemed as though she were trying to weave six stories into one, hence the extremely short sentences and harried expression in her eyes. "Eventually I got tired of it and told him in a very unladylike way to leave me be…" she took a deep breath. "Then he started to chase me, and wouldn't you know it, I tripped over a root. Of all things, a damn tree root." There was a small tear gathering in the corner of her eye. "He threw himself on top of me and pinned me to the ground. Then he stuck his hand up my skirt and…"

"I hope you screamed."

"Oh yes indeed Doctor, but no one heard me," her voice was shaking beyond all recognition. "He touched me till I…" she couldn't bring herself to say it. "And then he left me there alone. Once he left I got up, walked home and didn't say a word about it for a week."

"Why the devil not?"

"Because I thought it was my fault," she whimpered, sheer defeat in her voice. "That I'd done something to provoke him."

The Doctor sighed, hanging his head for just a brief second.

"I mean, I understand now that I did nothing to provoke him, and he did it just to hold some sort of power over me, because I didn't want him. But this whole thing that happened tonight… it just brought back so much…"

"I know…" the Doctor patted her hand. "There's no time limit on this at all. You still have a right to feel angry about it."

"But I don't want to be," she admitted. "I want to move on and forget it ever happened. He's dead, I'm not, that's all there is to it."

"That's a good way of thinking of it," the Doctor answered, pulling her into a quick hug. "Now, off to bed. It's been a long night, and you need to rest."

"Right…" she cleared her throat. "Good night Doctor."

Getting back into the TARDIS, she walked toward the bedrooms, opened her door, and fell into bed.


	2. The Second Stage of Grief

**A/N: Here is a new chapter for you guys! Enjoy, and feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.**

**ooOoo**

_Grief has limits, whereas apprehension has none. For we grieve only for what we know has happened, but we fear all that possibly may happen- Pliny the Elder_

Maggie awoke the next morning, and went straight for the shower. Once she'd done so and gotten dressed, she took a deep breath and stepped outside the TARDIS to find the Doctor already hard at work.

"Good morning Maggie my dear," he called, not needing to turn around.

"Oh sorry Doctor, I didn't mean…"

"No no, it's alright my dear," he continued with his work. "Feeling better this morning?"

"After a good night's sleep and a shower, much better."

"Did you get some breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You should at least have a bite of toast or some tea," he told her, turning to look at her. "Go back into the TARDIS, have some tea and then come back out."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Good idea, Doctor."

Whilst back in the TARDIS and away from the Brigadier and the Doctor, and most of all Sergeant Benton, she sat down and closed her eyes.

She could still feel Robbie's body weight pinning her down to the ground, the shame she'd felt afterward, the thought that she'd provoked him, and therefore deserved what he'd done to her. Mixed with the events of last night… whatever that man was with the rotting teeth and dirty fingers crawling all over her skin...

It was then she felt a tear fall and land on her thigh, and heard a strangled cry emit from the back of her throat. She knew she had to cry, she knew it, but she wasn't about to, not with the Doctor in such close proximity. Composing herself, she got to her feet, and went to the kitchen in search of a mug of tea.

**ooOoo**

The Doctor heard footsteps behind him, turning to see Sergeant Benton standing at the door with a file in hand.

"Sorry Doctor, the Brigadier wanted me to give this to you."

"Oh yes, and what's this?" he took the file and quickly looked over them. "Well you should give these to Maggie, not me."

"Right then, where is she?"

"She's in the gym."

"Gym?"

"In the TARDIS, Sergeant. Go on."

He sighed, and pushed through the doors. Getting over the sheer size of the console room, he made his way back, following the sound of footsteps and movement. He would assume that he was hearing Maggie, and hopefully have enough time to give her the file and get out before using up a large amount of time. The Brigadier wanted him for more assignments than there were days in the week, and it only seemed plausible to get this out of the way as quickly as possible.

"Maggie?"

He heard something fall and smash to the floor.

"Damn it!"

Benton followed the noise to find Maggie on her knees trying to pick up the pieces of what looked like a mug.

"It's my fault!" she muttered to herself, not acknowledging his presence at all.

"Sorry?" he stopped and looked back at her.

"It's my fault!" she repeated.

He set the file down on the table, sank to his knees, and pulled her close.

"Shh… accidents happen," he whispered to her.

Maggie turned her head and looked at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you…" then it dawned on him. She wasn't talking about the broken mug, but something else entirely.

"I should have fought back!" Maggie crumpled against him. "I should have fought back, and I didn't…" she sobbed. "I didn't!" she landed her fist into his shoulder.

"Easy Maggie, it's alright."

"No. It. Isn't!" she punctuated each word with a punch to his chest. "It's _not_ alright! I didn't fight back when I should have."

"How would you have fought back? Show me."

Maggie's entire body shook at a loss for words. Oh if she could have she would have beaten the beaten the bastard within an inch of his life, she would have wrapped an arm around his neck and squeezed the very breath out of him… there were so many other inhumane things she would have liked to torture one Robert Campbell with, had she had the opportunity.

"You don't know," Benton answered for her. He wasn't meaning it to be rude, rather a statement. "You don't have it in you to hurt anyone, Maggie."

"Then I'm a coward."

Benton grit his teeth, gently cradled her face in his hands, and locked eyes with her.

"It was not your fault," he insisted again. "You were not in the wrong."

She hung her head, casting her eyes to the floor.

"No, you look at me, Maggie." It was not a request, but a demand. "You are not a coward. You're the bravest woman I've ever met. You told us what happened and are taking steps to move on with your life. The wound is still fresh because it only happened last night. Don't you _ever_ believe yourself to be a coward. You are brilliant."

"It hurts…" she choked.

"I know it hurts," he answered, kissing her forehead. "And that's okay. It's okay to feel hurt."

He held her till she stopped shaking, all the while listening to her story. She'd met the Doctor in the past, about 1768, and had run into some sort of trouble. She'd stopped short of actually saying what it was, but long story short she'd gotten into the TARDIS and traveled back to UNIT with him. While she had no regrets about doing so, she now had no place to live and still felt horribly alone.

"You could come and stay with me," he offered.

Maggie looked at him as though he'd turned purple.

"Pardon?"

"You can't very well live at UNIT, Maggie, and I have the space."

"Oh I don't know…"

"Well you don't have to answer right away. It's only an offer."

"Thank you very much…" she fished in her skirt pocket for a handkerchief or a tissue, and finding none, slumped her shoulders and sighed.

"Here," Benton pulled a clean handkerchief from his own pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, folded it and offered it back. He shook his head, told her to keep it.

The two of them stood up together and walked back out of the TARDIS, Maggie much more composed and Benton's arm around her shoulder.

"Ah there you are…" the Doctor stopped, taking in the sight of the two of them. "Everything alright?"

"Yes Doctor," Maggie nodded. "I'll think about it, aye?"

"Please do," Benton smiled at her and went on his way.

**ooOoo**

Maggie had accepted the offer, and had quickly established herself as a welcome presence in John Benton's apartment. While it wasn't an ideal situation with John (she'd stopped calling him 'Benton' as soon as she had moved in, feeling it impersonal, especially since they would be living together), sleeping on the couch every night, neither had the desire to change their present living situation. Frankly, they enjoyed each other's company more than either cared to admit.

Three months in, John had developed a crick in his neck, and asked if he could have his bed back.

"Then where will I sleep?"

"You don't have to move."

"Excuse me?"

"The bed's big enough. We can share if you like."

Maggie raised an eyebrow. "As long as you stay on your side of the bed."

Benton raised two fingers. "Boy scouts honour."

"Fine."

He slid into bed beside her, the two of them falling asleep almost instantly.

Later that night, he felt her move and place her hands on his back.

"My god, your hands are cold!"

"Hmm?" she lifted her head, groggy. "Oh sorry."

"I could warm them for you, if that's alright?"

"Uh huh," she mumbled.

John wrapped his arms around her torso, and pulled her toward him. It was funny how the contours of her body fit so naturally with his. If he weren't a military man he'd…

She sighed, her chest heaving once.

"Better?" he whispered to her.

She moaned in response and fell back asleep.

A few hours later, he felt her stir.

"Oh, hello."

"Hello."

"John, why are you holding me?"

"You were shivering."

"You could've have gotten an extra blanket."

"You didn't want one," he reasoned. And it was true, she hadn't. Of course, he couldn't remember whether he had asked her if she did or not, but no matter.

"I didn't?"

"No."

"Oh," she turned over to face him, still wrapped in his arms. "Do we have to get up?"

"Not if you don't want to," he answered. The Brigadier had given them both the day off, and a warm bed is often too comfortable to get out of if it's not absolutely necessary.

"I don't want to."

John smiled. "Alright, we'll stay in here just a while longer."

They settled down together again, and said nothing for a good five minutes. They laid down listening to the sounds of the apartment. The coffee maker dripped steadily, the refrigerator hummed quietly, and suddenly a crashing sound.

"Ugh!" Maggie buried her face in John's chest. "Make it stop. They're _so noisy_, and so early in the morning!"

"I thought you were used to noise."

"Yes, but I like the quiet."

John put a finger to her lips and captured her hand in his. He lifted her hand and planted a soft kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled. "Really?"

"Just working my way up," he grinned, kissing her bare shoulder, then her neck. She gasped just before he captured her lips in a kiss that set her nerves on fire. Suddenly feeling very brave, she pulled him on top of her, startling them both.

"So, what was it that you wanted?" he smirked.

"You," she answered simply. "I want you."

John touched his forehead to hers. "No. Not yet."

"Why not? Don't you want me?"

"Very much so, Maggie. But it's too soon."

She sighed, and simply stared at him. He was lying on top of her, she was asking him for sex… what the hell were they doing? If they'd still been in 1768 there was no way they'd even be in the same room alone together, never mind sharing a bed. Granted, he was very warm, and solid. Hell, she didn't need a blanket if he could be there all day.

"What if I asked you again, in another month's time?"

"We'll have to see what happens then, won't we?" he grinned, kissing her softly again. "Are you warm enough?"

"Well I wouldn't object to you staying right where you are."

He rolled off of her.

"Oh that's mean!" she pouted.

He rolled out of bed and straightened the shirt he'd worn to sleep the night before. Glancing at the clock, he grinned at her. With her hair hanging loose over the pillow and her big blue eyes staring back at him half-lidded, as though she were still waking up, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone so gorgeous in all his life.

She'd absolutely captivated him, and in all honesty, it wasn't that he didn't want her, he just didn't want to scare her. True, she'd asked him herself, not vice versa, but it was important that they knew each other longer, knew more about each other before anything more happened between them.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Tea would be wonderful, thank you," she sat up, rubbing the remaining sleep out of her eyes.

He made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. They sat together over a pot of tea and some toast as a light breakfast, getting to know a little more about each other.

Maggie was born April 17th, 1741, and was only five years old when the Battle of Culloden ended, which saw many of her relatives, including her Uncle Jamie either missing or dead. The year after that she'd seen him, meaning Jamie, again, only to have her father Alec fall off his horse while they were riding. She'd run back to the house shouting that he was hurt, and Jamie had run out to find him. As far as she knew he'd come back empty handed at first, but she did remember the funeral they'd had for him. Her mother, Cora, and her second husband, Gordon, whom they called Dad, had subsequently raised her and her older brother Ben. Although she loved her family very much, she decided that there had to be more than what her life in the 18th century afforded her, and when the Doctor had turned up again and gotten her out of trouble, she asked if she could travel with him.

And so they'd ended up in the 1970s, and as far as she was concerned, that was just fine. Instead of endless fields there were buildings everywhere, she could walk to a grocery store and buy whatever she needed instead of having to grow it herself, she could wear whatever she liked, associated with whomever she liked, and no one could tell her otherwise. It was all strange and new, but she couldn't say she was unhappy.

John couldn't help but be amused at how incredibly smart she was, especially for someone who came out of a time where there was so little to know about science and biology. Never mind the fact that she came from a time where women were considered better suited to housework and raising children rather than actually working. Even if she didn't know that much about science, she'd learn plenty from the Doctor in due course.

"So there you have it," she answered. "I'm from another time."

"I gathered that."

"You knew already?"

"I put two and two together when I first spoke to you," he answered, not bothering to add that she'd told him herself in the TARDIS three months earlier. Chances were that she didn't remember saying anything of the sort.

"I see," she smiled. "So then tell me about you, John. Now you know much more about me, it's only fair."

Out came the story of John Benton's life thus far. His father had been a soldier, and had been blown to pieces in Normandy when he was very young. His mother had been beside herself with grief, having lost both her husband and her older son, John's brother Christopher, within a few months of each other. It was then that John had vowed that he'd be like his father, but not better than him. If he could be like his father, that was good enough. His mother had never fully recovered. She'd never remarried and, though he knew she loved him, he'd had to fight to keep her engaged from that moment on. When she'd died the hospital had said it was a heart attack, but he was sure it was heartbreak.

Maggie put her hand over John's, both seemingly lost in momentary grief. She didn't need to ask the difference between a heart attack and a broken heart, she'd seen it in her mother herself. While there was never any doubt that she'd loved Maggie's biological father, she never doubted that her mother loved Gordon just as much, perhaps more, but in a different way. There was always that part of her that mourned Alec, and Maggie knew Gordon understood that. It never bothered him, he even said that if Cora didn't want another baby, that was fine, because he thought of Maggie and Ben as his own.

John cleared his throat, prompting Maggie to lift her hand and wipe a non-existent tear from her eye.

Now both John Benton and Maggie Chisholm knew the truth about each other. They'd both suffered, and they were both struggling to heal.

And grief can do strange things to people.


	3. Miss Chisholm, Scientist Extraordinaire

**ninewood: Thank you so very much. Yes, there is heat building. Just wait till you see what happens here (smiles)**

**A/N: Warning for sexual content, situations, and coarse language. You have been warned. Also, feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.**

**ooOoo**

_Sex pleasure in woman is a kind of magic spell; it demands complete abandon; if words or movements oppose the magic of caresses, the spell is broken- Simone de Beauvoir_

Maggie returned to work with the Doctor the next day, regretting that her time off wasn't long enough. Truthfully she wanted nothing more than to stay curled up in bed as long as was humanly possible, but the Brigadier ran a very tight ship, so the phrase went, and as he was her superior, she was obligated to do as he asked.

Neither she nor John had said anything about their living situation. Either way it was none of his business, so long as it did not interfere with their work.

"So Maggie, how are you doing with that vial over there?" the Doctor asked.

"Not too bad, although there doesn't seem to be…" she adjusted the magnification on her microscope. "Wait, wait, I think I found something!"

The Doctor rushed over to the microscope, gently pushing her out of the way to look at the sample himself. "Ah, well done my dear. There is definitely something there."

"What is it?"

"It looks like a common cold germ."

"Germ? Like a little creepy crawly that I can't see?"

"Right, although you can see the effects without a microscope. With the common cold you'll see a runny nose, a cough, sometimes a low-grade fever, but nothing very severe. A few days bed rest and plenty of chicken soup usually puts that right. Simple as that."

"I was usually bled."

"Bled, my dear girl?"

"Yes Doctor, bled. I'm sure you know it was thought to be the cure for everything from a cold to a stroke to a heart attack."

"Yes I did know that, and thank goodness they don't do that anymore."

"Yeah," she picked up a file, went through the papers. "Anyway, what's so important about this little cold germ? We all know how to prevent colds, don't we?"

"I wasn't aware you knew, Maggie."

"I'm smart, remember?" she retorted. "Believe it or not, Doctor, I _do_ listen to you."

"Never said you didn't my dear," he removed the slide containing the cold germ sample and went to put it in the refrigerator. "Now, if you could just clear up that microscope, perhaps you and I could go for a drive."

"A drive?"

"Yes, a drive," he smiled at her, walking out of the laboratory.

**ooOoo**

Maggie got into the passenger seat of the Doctor's bright yellow car, Bessie. She smiled as they sped along the UNIT HQ grounds,

"So Maggie, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

"I've noticed you and Sergeant Benton getting a little chummy."

"There's nothing to that, Doctor. We live together, that's it. I really don't see the point to your asking."

"So long as it…"

"Doesn't interfere with our work," she finished for him. "Believe me Doctor, it doesn't. Yes, I do enjoy his company, but that's as far as it goes."

"Alright," he nodded, turning a sharp corner and pulling back in front of the HQ. They hopped out, walked back inside to the laboratory, and set back to work. Not another word was said it regard to Maggie's relationship with Sergeant Benton, if there really was one there at all. If she said there wasn't, there was cause to believe her.

"So now that I identified that one cold germ, Doctor, what are we supposed to do with that, or about it, or whatever?"

"Well, if I'm honest, Maggie, that was just a test."

"A test?"

"Yes," he smiled at her. "I wanted to see if you'd been paying attention."

She scoffed. All that just to make sure she'd been paying attention? Why not just ask her if she knew all the parts of the microscope? The first time she'd ever used one she'd been fascinated, wanted to take it apart and put it back together again to see how it worked. While the Doctor hadn't let her do that, he set to teaching her all about how to use it right away. And one of the first samples he'd put on the slide for her to examine had been a louse. She could still remember how horribly fascinating it had been.

"There's no need to scoff, dear girl, I wasn't meaning anything malicious."

"I know, Doctor," she smiled. "Listen, I'm really tired. Do you mind if I go make a cup of tea?"

"Oh no, go right ahead, perhaps you wouldn't mind bringing some for me as well?"

"Sure thing, Doctor," she nodded.

When she walked out of the laboratory, she shook her head. Of course she listened to the Doctor, but truth be told she wished she were back at home with John. He still had another day off, with his rank much higher than hers. Well, she didn't have a rank beyond being the Doctor's assistant, but that was beside the point. She missed him, missed him terribly. There had to be more than just friendship between her and John if she couldn't keep her mind off of him.

Though she seriously doubted John felt the same way, and if he did, she was sure he'd never tell her.

**ooOoo**

Neither of them said it out loud, but that morning had changed something between them. While they still shared a bedroom as well as a common living space, they stepped around each other whenever they passed in the hallway, pushing each other out of the way in the bathroom. In truth, it seemed as though they were on completely different planets.

Finally, after a month of the same routine, Maggie decided drastic action was needed. It ate at her until finally the two of them had another day off, which, incidentally, coincided with her birthday, the 17th of April.

"We need to talk," she insisted.

**ooOoo**

John sat down across the table from her. "Fine. Seems like a good idea."

"Never mind good idea, we honestly need to talk."

"Go on, I'm listening," he answered, making an invitation with his fingers.

Maggie leaned back in her chair, clasping the sides of her head as though she had a headache. "Look, we've been dancing around each other for a month, and we're both too stubborn to admit something's wrong. What is it?"

"I don't understand…"

"Yes you do, John, there's so much tension between us I could slice a knife through it,"

"Still, I don't see what that has to do with either of us being stubborn…"

"It has everything to do with us being stubborn," Maggie protested. "Look, I know it happened a month ago, and I never apologized for throwing myself at you, that morning where you said I hadn't wanted a blanket?"

"You don't need to apologize for that," John answered.

"Yes, I do," she insisted. "Because that was the catalyst for this entire month of us not speaking to each other, and that's not good for anyone. If we're not speaking more than we have to, it starts to affect how we work together and our personal relationship, and then everyone gets suspicious. So, again, I must tell you, I'm really sorry."

He smiled, putting his hand over hers. "You don't need to worry about it, Maggie."

She smiled back at him. "You know, I think this is the longest conversation we've had in over a month."

He chuckled gravely.

"And there was one other thing I wanted to ask you." Maggie swallowed, wishing that she had a very large glass of water within her reach. "Is there something I can do in return for you letting me stay here?"

"No," he answered. "I'm more than happy to help a friend, especially when they really need it."

"I know, you've told me that before, but I really do want to pay you back, and I have nothing else…"

Suddenly he realized what she was talking about.

"There's really no need to pay me back…"

"But…"

"I'm very flattered, Maggie, but I don't want you to use it as a way of paying me back for anything."

"Well that's all very well and good, John, but…" she took a deep breath. "There's no politically correct way to say this so I'll just go ahead and say it. I really do like you, and I want to go to bed with you."

John's eyes went wide.

"You're sure, Maggie?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

It was John's turn to swallow. "I don't want you to look back on it and regret your decision. I'll ask you again, Maggie, are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

He gripped her hand, stood up with her, and led her toward their bedroom. Suddenly that short walk seemed so much longer and less reassuring than it had ever been. She was nervous, absolutely, but at the same time it felt absolutely right.

They sat down on the bed beside one another, John still holding her hands tightly in his. It certainly seemed as though they were each other's lifeline. But it didn't make any sense, why would he be scared of her? Surely he was the more experienced one…

Of course!

He didn't want to rush her, so he was holding her hands, waiting until she told him it was all right for him to continue.

"Would you kiss me?" she asked, sounding braver than she actually felt.

John leaned in, touched his forehead to hers, and softly nipped at her lip. "You know you have the right to say stop."

"I don't want you to stop," she breathed, silently begging him to kiss her again. He obliged, letting go of her hand and running his palm up her thigh, traveling to her waist and making his way to the side of her breast.

She stayed his hand as he removed to cup the flesh, breaking the kiss.

"What is it?"

Maggie cast her eyes toward the floor, suddenly embarrassed.

"You don't need to be embarrassed, Maggie, what is it?" his eyes were full of concern.

"It's just… I've never…"

"Are you scared of what I'll say?"

She nodded. Truth be told she'd always been self conscious in regards to her breasts. She'd always feared that whomever she lay with first would see the scars. After that accident where she'd been trampled by the horses stampeding out of the field at the age of four, the surgeon had had to cut into her chest to relieve the water build up that had settled there, they said. Once it had all been drained it left her with a scar across her left breast, which was where John's hand had drifted.

"They're not normal," she whispered.

"How do you mean? Everyone is different."

She turned her back to him, freeing her hands and bringing her shirt over her head. Once that was out of the way, she gathered her hair to one side, allowing John to unclasp her bra, sliding it down her arms and letting it fall to the bed.

Her arms instinctively went across her chest as she felt John lean forward and place a kiss to her right shoulder.

She felt goose bumps erupt, still not allowing her arms to fall.

"If you don't want me to see, Maggie, I won't look," John reached around and put his hands over hers. "But may I?"

"Um…."

"Just once," he breathed, keeping his hands over hers as he waited for her answer.

She dropped her hands as John's moved to her breasts, softly trailing over her nipples, hardening into peaks at his touch, cupping each gently in his hands, massaging only for a moment.

Maggie moaned, still unsure what to do with her own hands. But… her brain was telling her to reach behind her, and she did, resting her hands on the back of his neck.

"You're perfect, Maggie," he whispered in her ear.

She blushed.

"Can I turn around?" she asked, suddenly wanting more contact than she'd been allowed previously. Something told her she wanted John out of his shirt, it was unfair that he should still be wearing his if he were massaging her bare breasts, though she wouldn't deny it felt wonderful.

Once she had turned around, she set to undoing the buttons on John's shirt. Even with her hands shaking, she wanted him out of the garment as quickly as was humanly possible.

She succeeded, and sat marveling at how well defined he was. She locked eyes with him for only a moment, looking for the reassurance that what she was doing was right.

He nodded.

Maggie leaned in and kissed his chest once. He tasted of salt, sweat, and anticipation, but it wasn't unwelcome. She wanted more, much more, but where to go from here?

His belt! Something in the back of her brain told her to reach for his belt, and when she did, he didn't hesitate in pulling on the leather to release it, and allowing her to set to work on his zipper and buttons.

"Easy Maggie," he closed his eyes for a moment, marveling in the feeling of rough and stiff jeans giving way, leaving him in boxer shorts.

Once Maggie had finished, she sat staring at him, completely unsure of what to do next. Her arms seemed to work on their own, pulling him toward her and allowing him to work on her black cotton pants. She heard herself inhale sharply as his fingers worked around the waistband, sliding them down and off completely, now leaving her in her panties.

She crooked her finger at him twice, laying back on the bed, her brain was telling her this was right. He wouldn't hurt her, and even if he did she wouldn't mind.

Goosebumps erupted across her skin once again as John crawled up the bed, gently placed himself on top of her, kissing her thoroughly. Even when she reached for the waistband on his boxer shorts, he kept his attention focused on her.

When her fingers brushed against him, she gasped.

He stopped once he heard her, looking down to see a slight tinge of fear in her eyes.

"How… how are you going to…"

He smiled at her, explaining carefully that her body would allow him to fit, only if he prepared her properly, if she would allow him to. He reached down, sliding her panties off, and stopping before doing anything else.

"Could I… touch you?" she was almost embarrassed to ask.

"Of course," he whispered, kissing her cheek and rolling over on to his side to allow easier access.

Maggie was sure her clumsy touches and explorations would certainly make her look silly, but she didn't know what else to do. She very lightly ran her fingers along his length, felt his response, and surprised, stopped and stared.

"Is it going to hurt?"

She saw his expression change.

"Maggie, are you…"

She said nothing, closing her eyes and starting to roll over.

"No no, don't worry," he took her in his arms. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, even if it is a little scary the first time. I'm going to be as gentle as I can."

She found herself repeating the question, asking if it would hurt.

"Not if I take the time to prepare you, and even then it'll only be like this," he pinched the fleshy part of her forearm. "And only for a moment or two, it will pass quickly."

Suddenly Maggie Chisholm felt safer than she'd ever felt in John's arms. He was going to make sure she was ready, and wouldn't do anything until she said it was alright. She moaned as John slipped a finger into her, arching as he massaged. This felt much better than what Robbie had done to her. John's touch was soft and reassuring, slow and skilled as her body acclimatized to his fingers.

"Yes…" she breathed, wanting more, arching her hips off the bed. "Yes. More..." she clutched at the bed sheets, needing something to hold on to. "Please… no more waiting."

She felt John place a kiss just above her sex.

"You're sure you're ready?"

She couldn't force herself to form more than two words that sounded odd coming out of her mouth. She was sure she'd say 'yes' and 'more' and perhaps even 'want you'.

Maggie felt John enter her completely, and heard a faint pop.

Her eyes pinched shut. Holy God, even if he _had_ warned her, she wasn't expecting it to pinch that much. He wasn't hurting her, whispering for her to stay still, because it would pass soon.

And he was right. Instead of pain she felt almost pleasantly numb, enjoying the feeling of being so close to John. He was whispering to her, but she wasn't sure what he was saying, it all sounded muffled.

But then he was moving. Maggie felt him rock his hips back and forth gently, filling her completely. There were no words to describe the sensation; it was almost as though she were melting into the mattress, but all she could think about was the coil of heat tightening in her belly.

"John, I can…" and she arched, moaning as the coil in her belly exploded, sending heat from her core right through to her fingertips and toes. Was _this_ what an orgasm was supposed to feel like? Such joy and pleasure and the utter sense of completion? Her legs had turned to jelly, her vision blurry, like she couldn't focus on any one thing, including John.

With electricity still pumping through her veins, she could feel John moving, still rocking gently, until he twitched inside her, utterly lost just as she had been. In truth she'd never seen a man orgasm before, and although it didn't look painful, it certainly sounded like it was.

As they curled up together, she could only whisper "Thank you" before drifting off to sleep.


	4. The Morning After

**ninewood: Oh I bet Bessie is still mothballed at UNIT somewhere, unless they gave it to the Brigadier for safe keeping after Seven used it one last time (smiles)**

**A/N: Another warning for scenes of a sexual nature, and some coarse language. But please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.**

**ooOoo**

_How like herrings and onions our vices are in the morning after we have committed them- Samuel Taylor Coleridge_

It really wasn't true, what they said about sex. Yes, the next morning she was quite sore, but there was absolutely no difference in how she looked at John. Sex should not change the nature of a relationship, and even if it did, there should never be any regrets.

And Maggie knew she had no regrets. What had happened between her and John the night before had been wonderful and exciting, if not a little frightening at the same time. He'd held her and cuddled her close afterward, wrapping her in the blanket.

Looking over at him, she smiled. No, she had no regrets of giving him her maidenhead; never mind that they weren't married. If there was one thing she'd learned with the 1970s, it was that there was no shame in giving in to one's hedonistic urges.

She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and turned to see that John was still sleeping peacefully. Hopefully she wouldn't wake him from moving so much. Carefully, she rolled out of bed, wrapped herself in a towel, and went into the bathroom.

She closed the door as silently as she could, turned on the bathroom light, and looked at herself in the mirror.

She'd been told that you're supposed to look different after you've had sex, but really, she didn't see it. Her hair was still brown, her eyes were still blue, her arms and legs were still the same length, and her breast still had that hideous scar across it.

But he hasn't seen it, and even when he'd touched her breasts, he hadn't said anything. If he'd noticed anything, surely he would have, wouldn't he? All he'd told her was that she was perfect, and he'd been gentle and patient with her, answering all her asinine questions and waiting until she told him he could move. Even when he was inside her, she felt complete, as though she were part of him.

Her hand traveled downward, checking. Yes, she was sore, but it wasn't that bad anymore, just… there. She'd been raised with Cora believing that you should never be ashamed of your body. If you had wider hips or a little bit of a tummy or even a scar across your breast, that was the body you were given and it's yours to cherish. Being ashamed does nothing but diminish just how beautiful you are. Masturbation had never been a taboo subject in their house either. She'd known where babies came from as soon as she'd been able to understand words. With her mother being a midwife, she'd come along on many different occasions, sometimes helping with the births themselves. As such, she now realized that her mother had a very healthy (not to mention modern) view of sex and sexuality, and could sometimes even hear her voice, saying 'do it three times a day if you have to, I do not want my babies having babies yet'. Truth be told she'd never indulged, and she'd never thought to ask Ben if he did, but that wasn't her business and a thoroughly unappetizing thought.

But she wasn't thinking about birth or giving birth right at that very moment. She dropped the towel and placed her hands on her breasts, cupping them underneath and feeling the weight of the flesh in her own hands. They were soft, and rounded… not at all how she'd thought of them at first. Even the scar didn't seem to bother her anymore. Running her fingers over it, she realized that it wasn't even bumpy; it was smooth and white, barely noticeable unless you knew where to look. When her own fingers brushed over her nipples, she could feel them hardening under her touch, resisting the urge to pinch them and see if she could enjoy the sensation on her own.

She worked her way down her body, sliding her hands down her sides and over her ribs to her hips, squeezing gently. The little extra weight she was convinced she carried there had seemed to vanish… she couldn't even see it in the mirror. From her hips she moved to the cleft between her legs again, but this time she spread her legs apart a little further to give herself more balance.

Doing something she'd never done before, she slipped her own two fingers inside and marveled at the sensation. She gasped and stared at herself in the mirror, realizing how wet she'd become in the short time she'd been in the bathroom. Very slowly, she massaged flesh she'd never touched herself, gauging her reaction in the mirror over the sink. She moved her fingers in and out, trying to duplicate the motion John had used the night before, and, very slowly, felt that same pressure beginning to mount in her belly. It was almost a tugging sensation behind her navel, the same coil of heat building again. Truthfully she couldn't hear anything beyond her heart pounding in her ears, working up the courage to go faster, her other hand gripping the sink for balance.

And then it happened again, the coil of heat burst, and she felt herself tightening around her fingers, not twice but three times. She felt her legs give out as her body convulsed in absolute pleasure, the entire rest of the world be damned.

**ooOoo**

When she emerged from the bathroom, John was sitting in bed, waiting for her. She was so content she didn't even realize that she'd come back into the bedroom completely naked, and without the towel she'd left the room in. His hair was tussled, and he had sleepy eyes having just woken up, but he was the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on.

Climbing back into bed and settling down again, he smiled as he pulled her close.

"Good morning," he said simply, as though he hadn't heard her in the bathroom, which happened to be right across from the bedroom.

"It's a very good morning," she answered, kissing his chest, braver than she'd ever felt before.

He chuckled softly. "You're not hurting I hope?"

"No not at all," she danced her fingers down his torso and under the blanket, reaching for him.

His eyes bulged slightly.

"Be careful there Miss Chisholm," he growled low in his throat, all the while rolling gently on top of her. "If you continue with that you'll be on your back all day."

"Exactly…" she reached up and kissed him. "What…" she kissed him again. "I…" kissed him once more. "Want."

He grinned devilishly.

**ooOoo**

They made love three more times that morning, and twice more that afternoon, stopping only when they realized that the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. Once they'd eaten, they lay together silently, listening to the sounds of their breathing and taking in the afterglow.

"My God…" Maggie whispered, enjoying the feel of cool air across her breasts. "Fantastic. Saw stars."

"Says the one who wanted to stay in bed all day."

"No regrets whatsoever," she insisted.

"Good," he absentmindedly picked up a strand of her hair, ran his fingers through it. "Although what shall we do when we go back to UNIT tomorrow?"

Maggie sat up in bed. "What?"

"We're still members of UNIT, aside from giving in to our fleshly urges," he reminded her. "No one knows the nature of our relationship, given that… well, I guess we're not really a couple."

"No, very true," Maggie agreed. "Unless…"

"Unless what?" John asked.

"If I told you that I wanted to be with you, not just for sex but because I wanted an actual relationship, what would you say?"

John bit his lip. "That I want the same thing."

Well, she hadn't expected to hear _that_.

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do," he answered. "Not just because I've now shagged you rotten, yes I know, crude but effective, but because I like you just as much, and I'd like to see where this goes."

Needless to say it was the first time she'd ever heard someone tell her that. Robbie Campbell had just wanted to use her, to hold power over her head. The other men who'd come to court her while she still lived with her mum and dad were much older than her, and were willing to pay top dollar for a young virgin, but they made her skin crawl. Her father, seeing how uncomfortable she was, never took any offers on her. Like Cora, he had decided that both Maggie and Ben could decide on their own what they wanted to do, and if Maggie didn't want a suitor who had come to call, he couldn't very well force her, and he wouldn't.

Oh if he could see how she was living her life now.

"So, where do we go from here?" he asked.

"Well…" she smiled at him. "I suppose we could just enjoy life, enjoy each other, no one at UNIT need know."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I agree," she burrowed under the blankets. "Being with you has been amazing, John, and I'm not just saying that because I have no basis for comparison, it truly was amazing."

He had the good sense to tell her she was the most amazing woman he'd ever had, and it was true. Even if she didn't quite know what she was doing, there was no handbook on sex, at least not one that made any sense. It was a natural, biological function, and if your brain told you to touch there, you did. If you felt as though you needed to do that there, then you did. But, was that really all she had been reduced to? Sex as a simple biological need? He certainly hoped not.

"No no, it's just all new to me," she told him. "John, it's just been such a whirlwind, and I couldn't have asked for a more patient partner. You didn't have to do that, you didn't have to make love to me simply because I asked you to."

There was nothing he could say in response to that. He was thrilled she was so happy, and had no regrets whatsoever. But, there was that one little thing…

"Maggie, in the bathroom, were you doing what I think you were doing?"

She grinned devilishly. "Depends on what you think I was doing." Then it dawned on her. "Did you hear me in there?"

"I did," he answered, proceeding to explain that he was in no way eavesdropping, not when the bedroom door had been left open. And in all honesty it had taken every ounce of willpower had to get out of bed and open the bathroom door, just to see her reaction.

Now that she thought about it, she wouldn't have minded. She had actually pictured her hands as his, and suddenly wondered what it would have been like to have him stand behind her and guide her hands. She didn't need him to do it, but she would have liked it.

"I didn't wake you up?"

"No, I was awake when you first started moving," he answered. "That isn't to say I wasn't intrigued by what I was hearing. I thought with you being from a different time, that would have been seen as shameful."

"It was," she admitted. "But my mother was a midwife. Sex and masturbation, I think that's the proper name for it?"

John nodded.

"Masturbation was never a taboo subject in our house, but even if my parents didn't care… well they did care if I was out every night inviting strange men to my bed, which I was _not_ doing, thank you very much, I never indulged."

"Why not?"

"I was too scared."

"Scared to give yourself pleasure?"

She nodded. Even now, when she'd just shared herself with someone she knew but not that well, she still felt the need to curl up and pretend this wasn't happening. She'd heard all these contradictory things about sex that had her head spinning,

She'd been told that women weren't supposed to enjoy sex. Wrong. Most enjoyable activity she'd ever participated in. She'd been told that she'd had to give up her maidenhead because someone had said so. Wrong again. She was happy she'd waited till she'd met the right man, never mind that she was twenty- four years old. Even if she had all the knowledge her mother had afforded her, she still thought it quite extraordinary that she'd never indulged in an activity that was supposed to satisfy you. Perhaps it was because she still felt ashamed?

After the incident with Robbie, she had come to believe that it was her fault, and swore she'd never let anyone touch her again. Even when she'd told her uncle, she'd hung on to him for dear life, fearing that if she didn't, she'd die. He'd never blamed her, and neither had her own mother, because they knew it was not her fault, they just couldn't convince her of that same fact. It was not her fault, and she had nothing to be ashamed of.

She almost couldn't believe it had taken a young soldier, who had opened his home and his life to her, and taken her to bed to convince her that she was beautiful, and worthy.

Yes, John Benton had definitely done something to her, and she was relishing in it.


	5. Between Heaven and Hell

**A/N: Another chapter! Let joy be uncontained, etc etc hurray everybody. Warning for a little bit of smut, but otherwise... enjoy. And please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open**

**ooOoo**

_Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones. I am not afraid – Marcus Aurelius._

They returned to UNIT the next day, but thought it best to be cautious. They shared a quick kiss in the car before going into the HQ and reporting to their respective duties. Maggie walked into the laboratory to see the Doctor already dressed and hard at work. Good God, did the man never leave?

But then again, where would he go? From what he had told her, he was stranded on Earth thanks to his people putting him in exile on Earth. They'd said that if he was so intent on protecting the people of Earth, he might as well share their "misery". So, for whatever he'd done (he hadn't told her exactly), until they decided he'd suffered enough, he was to remain on Earth, and until the sentence was lifted, he'd remain as UNIT's Scientific Advisor.

"Maggie, I've never seen you smile like that," he remarked as she joined him at his lab bench and set to work on some part of an experiment he was working on.

"Like what?" she asked, snapping out of her trance.

"Like you are now," he answered, smiling back at her.

"Can't I just be in a good mood?"

"By all means, don't let me distract you."

"Distraction? Who said anything about a distraction?" she quipped, humming to herself as she connected two cables. "There, that should do it."

"Very good, my dear," he told her. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing, why?" she shrugged her shoulders.

"I've never seen you so happy. You haven't stopped smiling since you got here four hours ago."

"Four hours? It's been that long? Really?"

"Yes it has. It's about noon now."

"Is it?" she looked at the clock on the wall. "I hadn't noticed."

"It's quite alright, my dear," he looked over his calculations once again, periodically looking over the paper at her. "So, I'll ask you again, Maggie, can I ask why you're so happy?"

"You can, but I won't tell you why," she smirked, walking toward the laboratory door. "I'm going to get some food. Do you want something?"

"No thank you my dear, I'll call you back here if I need anything."

"Fine," she went through the laboratory doors and left the Doctor to his own devices.

**ooOoo**

Maggie and John left the HQ later that evening. It seemed odd, at least in John's experience, that there had not been another unusual sighting of a supposedly hostile alien force in over four months. Granted, he didn't expect them to be presenting themselves every day, but he could feel his feet growing itchier by the day.

Almost in reflex, she reached out and grabbed his hand.

He looked at her sideways.

"I thought we were going to keep this under wraps."

"It's dark, no one can see us," Maggie reasoned. "And we're not too far from the car. What's the harm?"

And she was right. There was no one even close to where they were parked. Once in the car, they sank into their respective seats and sat in silence for a few moments before putting the car in gear and heading off home.

Too tired to even think about cooking anything, they stripped out of their work clothes and into their nightclothes, climbing into bed beside each other without a second thought.

Maggie could feel John's eyes on her, watching until she fell asleep. Sighing, she acquiesced to his silent request, and let sleep take over, sure that John would follow soon after.

_Her body convulsed in hot spasms, John's breath warm in her ear. It was not only his breathing that caught her attention, but the water following near them as they lay together. It was then she realized they were on a bank by the stream. It was quiet, and secluded, something they'd never had before. _

_She was lying on her back, the grass wet with morning dew, but cool on her bare skin. She could feel her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster, her breasts crushed against his chest. _

_She struggled to hear her own voice, not entirely sure she could understand what it was she said. Was it 'yes?', was it 'don't stop?', was it 'fuck me harder?'. She couldn't tell, but whatever it was, it urged John on, faster and faster._

_They'd never made love like this before. It was hard and faster and different to anything she'd ever felt before. He stopped briefly, withdrew, and getting her to sit up, shifted her so that she now sat face to face with him, her legs draped across his hips to give him easier access._

_He entered her again, thrusting hard over and over, sending her over the edge. She felt his mouth on her left breast, lavishing the nipple with attention until it grew into a hardened peak. Even as she convulsed, he held her to him, keeping her from falling away into oblivion. _

_She threw her head back, gripping his shoulders. She was screaming. She could hear herself screaming, but it wasn't a terrified scream. It was a scream of a woman realizing a first orgasm, or a first pleasurable orgasm at any rate. _

_She then felt him empty himself into her, each thrust reaching her womb and making her cry out. He cried out as well, although she wasn't sure what he'd said in that moment, if anything at all._

When she woke, she felt her hand between her thighs, and a moisture she was sure hadn't been there an hour or so earlier. Had she come in her sleep? She reached down and felt around the sheet. No, still dry, so she hadn't peed either… what the hell was going on?

She rolled out of bed, pulled on her housecoat, and went to the kitchen table. She'd certainly planned to be asleep right now, but the best laid plans, right?

She kept a pocket- sized journal in her housecoat pocket for occasions such as this, though she'd never thought she'd actually have the opportunity to use it. Still, John was asleep and the apartment was quiet, the perfect opportunity to write something down, particularly a dream.

_I've just woken up from a dream_, she wrote by way of introduction. _I've never really been able to remember my dreams, because they say you dream every night, but rarely remember them, but this one was different._

_I dreamt I was making love to John, but it was different this time. It was outside just after the sunrise, and there was still moisture on the ground. My back was wet, but it felt good. It felt really good._

_I was only on my back for a short time, but then John thought we should change positions. It was almost like I was sitting on his lap, and I've never done it that way before. I don't know if it even has a name, but in this dream it caused the most intense orgasm I think I've ever had. There was even a sort of flood that came from between my legs when I orgasmed. I don't know what's that's called, and I've never done it in real life, but it felt really good in my dream._

_I heard someone say that each dream has a meaning, but what possible meaning could a dream in which I'm making love to John have? I've only slept with John a few times since I moved in, and even then it didn't start until a few days ago. I have no regrets about sleeping with John, even if we're not married. I don't love him, certainly not, and I'm sure he doesn't love me. I think we've agreed, silently of course, that we're just going to see where this relationship, if there's even one to speak of, goes._

_Yes, I understand that a relationship based purely on sex does not often work out well, but we're not calling it anything yet. I want to be with him, I really do, but I don't know how to tell him. The sex is amazing, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I wonder if a basis for comparison is needed. If I do end up dating him, he would be my first boyfriend, as well as the first man I've ever slept with. And say, for argument's sake, that I end up marrying him? Do I really want to only have these experiences with one man?_

_I remember the first time I talked to my Auntie about what Robbie tried to do to me, but I lied to her. I told her that Robbie had said he wanted to bed me, and I wasn't sure what I should do. She didn't know that he had tried to rape me until I broke down in tears and told my Uncle in the barn after I helped him deliver that one foal. Anyway, just before I went to talk to her there had been all sorts of rumors that even though she wasn't married, there was no way she was a virgin, and had slept with numerous men, including my uncle. I told myself I would reserve judgment until I actually talked to her, and when I did, and asked her if it was true that she'd lost her maidenhead at thirteen years old (I was thirteen, nearly fourteen was this was all happening), she told me yes it was true, but that it was not her fault that it had happened that way. She hadn't said much more about it, but she did tell me I should wait until I found the right man before I went to bed with anyone._

_Truth be told I think I have, but I'm still unsure sometimes about whether or not I rushed it too quickly. This is not a regret, don't take it as such. John is a wonderful man, a great lover and an even better friend, I just wonder whether or not I'm ready to take the next step and actually tell him I want to be his. _

_I don't know what to do._

_Oh well, guess I'll just have to figure it out as I go along, isn't that what life is all about?_

_M.C._

Satisfied that she'd written all that she needed to write for the time being, she closed her journal and went back into the bedroom. Sliding back into bed beside John, she curled up and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

**ooOoo**

The next morning they headed back into work once again, where Maggie found the Doctor deeply absorbed in a chart of some kind.

"What's that, Doctor?"

"This, my dear, is a chart detailing the civilization of the people of Axapta."

"Who?"

"The people of Axapta," the Doctor answered. "Oh come now, dear girl, did I never tell you about Axapta?"

"Not in recent memory," she admitted. "Why? Is Axapta important?"

"It may very well be important soon," the Doctor flipped another page and read through it as quickly as possible.

"But why? Are they headed to Earth?"

"That's what the Brigadier is trying to figure out. Part of the reason why he has your Sergeant Benton all tied up for a while."

Maggie caught on to the wording of that sentence straight away.

"My Sergeant?" she scoffed. "He is not my sergeant, Doctor. I told you there is nothing more to our relationship other than the fact that we live together."

"No need to get so defensive…."

"There's every need to get defensive, Doctor, when you're putting a label on something that doesn't exist and probably never will exist!"

"Calm down, Maggie, I meant no offense."

"No, offense is exactly what you meant, Doctor, otherwise you wouldn't be telling me you meant no offense." She knew he was sneaky, and he was trying to cover his tracks by offering a snide apology. Well, no so much snide as half-arsed, because she knew he very well meant to get her riled up, to see if her reaction coincided with his pre-established notions.

Not willing to wait for a response, Maggie turned on her heel and walked out of the laboratory. She was not able to leave the complex at any rate, knowing that the Brigadier would have her neck if she did. Instead, she made her way to the shooting range, hoping she could sign out a rifle (if that were at all possible), and perhaps get some target practice in.

And that way she could pretend the target was the Doctor's head.

**ooOoo**

BANG

She waited, and reloaded, aimed.

BANG

On her last shot, she aimed once more, and fired. It hit the target straight through the heart. In truth, she felt a million times better having worked her anger out doing something productive. She'd actually asked the Brigadier if she could carry a weapon, as she was a very good shot and had no qualms about using one if need be.

He'd consented, so long as she passed the test required of all UNIT personnel, himself included.

Sighing, she brought that rifle back to the armory, signed the necessary paperwork, and returned to the canteen, where she noticed John was just finishing a cup of tea. Discretely deciding to ignore him, she went and got herself a cup of tea as well, before sitting down at a table and looking over her notes that she'd made on her own. Turning a page, she found an old note she'd put in there.

Picking it up, and turning it over, she realized it was a handwritten note from her mother, Cora.

_No matter where you go, what you do, who you meet, or how you choose to live your life, know that I am proud of you. I can only hope I did the best I could in being your mum. And Margaret, I have to tell you, it is a great privilege to be your mother. I cannot have asked for someone so bright and intelligent, curious about the world around her, and willing to do whatever is needed to achieve everything she wants, to be my daughter. _

_Remember, live your life in such a way that, no matter what you do, you are happy with the choices that you made and will continue to make. Your father and I are so proud of you._

_All my love,_

_Mum_

"I don't know what to do, Mum," she whispered to the battered old piece of paper. "Tell me what to do."

Instinctively she put a hand on her right shoulder, as though getting a little push in the right direction.

"Yeah…" she whispered, taking a deep breath and imagining her mother's hand there, giving her a reassuring squeeze in response. "I know…" she hung her head briefly, drummed her fingers on her shoulder. "Thanks."

She could almost feel Cora smiling over her shoulder.


	6. Smoke Alarms

**ninewood: Yes she does, poor thing. But not to worry, things WILL get better.**

**A/N: I couldn't find John's mother's name in canon, so I have christened her Vera. For whatever reason, she struck me as Vera. Enjoy, and please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.**

**ooOoo**

_Dreaming is an act of pure imagination, attesting in all men a creative power, which if it were available in waking, would make every man a Dante or Shakespeare- Frederick Henry Hedge_

Now much more calm, Maggie clocked out, said goodbye to the Doctor, and went home. Stopping off to buy groceries (which they were desperately in need of since neither of them had had time to do any shopping), she got in the door, and collapsed on the couch. Being so completely exhausted, there was no line between reality and dreams anymore.

After a 15 minute power nap, she got up and set to putting the groceries away. She heard the door open, called out a greeting and continued with her task.

Fiddling with a pan on the counter, she heard him walk up behind her and lightly kiss her neck.

Smiling, she asked him what he was doing.

"What does it feel like?" he murmured, reaching his hands under her shirt, snaking them toward her belt.

"Well I know what it feels like…" she answered, grabbing a hold of his hand and bringing them further down. She closed her eyes and turned in his arms. Reaching her arms up around his neck, she kissed him hello. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"Seems there was a distress call from a planet called Axapta."

Maggie felt her eyes grow wide. "The Doctor mentioned something about Axapta," she kissed him again and turned back to the stove. "Said it might be important soon."

"Axapta itself or the people sending the distress call?"

"I don't know, he didn't say," she shrugged, setting the pot on the stove and turning the heat up. She bent and grabbed an onion out of the storage cupboard, set to chopping it. "It's stew tonight."

"Sounds fine to me," he answered, going into the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes.

"Hmm…" she murmured, turning her attention back to the onion that was balanced between her fingers on the cutting board. She cut it as quickly as possible, tears stinging her eyes.

John came back from the bedroom to see her holding her hands under running water, blinking.

"Onion getting to you?"

"Damn they're strong…" she shook her head. "That's the last time I cut an onion without protection over my eyes," she flushed her eyes with water and dried her face on her clean apron. "Yuck…" she then kept the water running and quickly washed her hands.

"What can I do to help?"

"Out of my kitchen," she ordered, brandishing a wooden spoon. Of course, she was just calling it her own. She'd not run a home on her own before, and thus had no official claim over any kitchen at all, but since she was cooking, she had free reign.

"Oh, _your_ kitchen, Maggie?" he grinned devilishly and playfully pinched her bum.

Her mouth dropped, hitting him in the arm with the spoon. "You _did not_ just do that!"

"Didn't I?" he reached again.

Maggie smacked him in the stomach. "Let's get one thing straight here, soldier boy," she teased. "Unless I say so, you cannot touch me. Got it?"

John's only response was to kiss her, and Maggie felt her knees buckle beneath her.

The smoke alarm went off over their heads. With a start, Maggie gently pushed him off, grabbed a tea towel and waved it underneath the alarm. Once it had stopped, Maggie removed the smoking pot off the heat and shook her head at John.

"We cannot keep doing that," she playfully poked him in the chest. "We keep setting off the smoke alarm."

"So?" he reached over and turned the heat off. "Why should that matter? There's no fire." He gripped the wooden spoon and gently pulled it out of her grasp.

"There very nearly was," she corrected, tugging his shirt upward and running her hand upward from his stomach to his chest, drumming her fingers in a steady rhythm.

He kissed her again, lifting his arms enough for her to get his shirt off. As soon as she'd done so, he lifted her up, had her wrap her legs around his waist and carried her to the bedroom.

Later, Maggie lay sleeping beside him, her hair spread out on the pillow, her chest gently heaving with every breath. John, however, was not so lucky. With Maggie being from a different time, he was sure that with this perceived distress call from Axapta, that the only way to help would be for the Doctor to send her back.

Frankly he wasn't willing to do that. He wanted her to himself, even for just a little while longer. And it wasn't just the sex he would miss.

If she ended up having to go back, he'd miss everything about her. He'd miss the way she laughed, the way she'd gently admonish him if he said something stupid. He'd miss the way she smiled at him, the way she'd kiss him when they first woke up in the mornings. There were a plethora of other things he would miss about her, but he couldn't quite think of them at the moment.

He turned his head at her movement. He watched her roll over and cuddle close to him once again.

John sighed, put his arm around her and gently kissed her forehead.

**ooOoo**

_Maggie was sure she was dreaming again. This time, however, was different. She and John were driving around, unsure of where they were going to go and what they were going to do. It was a nice day out, the sun was shining, and it was warm. She kind of felt at peace with the fact that they didn't have a definite plan for the day, it left room for anything and everything._

_John stopped the car in what seemed like the middle of a dirt road. There was no one else around; the air was calm, with a slight breeze, yet she wasn't scared. She never had anything to be afraid of when she was with John, and she loved that feeling._

_They both got out of the car and stood across from each other, staring at each other over the top of the car. John smiled, and crooked a finger at her. She shrugged her shoulders and ran around the car after him. The two of them ran toward nothing but open sky, laughing and tripping over the oddest things that seemed to crop up. First it was a toy car, the next a stuffed animal, the next a tea mug, until finally John stopped and asked her to sit down._

_It was then, once she sat down, that she saw what had fascinated him so. They weren't alone. They were sitting with John's mother, Vera, and Maggie's own parents, Gordon and Cora. Vera and Gordon seemed deeply immersed in their own conversation, while Cora set to asking John anything and everything. _

_The funny thing was that it all seemed muffled. She could barely hear what they were saying, although at one point she did see Cora nearly jump out of her skin at something John had said, but right after that she was hugging him. And there were tears in her eyes. _

Maggie awoke with a start, feeling a small tear run down her cheek. What had that been about? She blinked, turned over to check the time, and shook John's shoulder.

"Wake up…" she begged him. "John, wake up!"

He groaned.

"John!"

John, being a military man, snapped awake immediately. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"What's your mother's name?"

He looked at her as though she'd grown three heads. "What?"

"Just answer me! What's your mother's name?"

"Vera," he answered, moving a strand of hair out of her face. "Why is that important? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, it's just…" she sighed. "Never mind. I'll tell you in the morning…" she got up and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it quickly, heading back into the bedroom empty-handed.

What she didn't expect was to see John wide- awake, sitting up and waiting for her.

"Since we're both awake, you might as well tell me what's going on," he patted the mattress. "Come on, what's happened?"

"It was just a dream," she answered. "But it was so _real_."

"Real? How?"

"Just… it was weird."

"Tell me."

And no sooner had the intention to refuse been uttered that the entire dream came out. She told him of the two of them driving and stopping in an open field, and the two of them sitting in said field having tea with his mother and her parents. She then told him that her mother had gotten up and hugged him after he said something, though she hadn't been able to figure out what it was.

John narrowed his eyes. "You're right, that is a weird one."

"Logically it doesn't make sense," Maggie insisted. "You know I'm from a different time and your mother and my parents have never met. I mean, they're long dead. And to dream of knowing your mother's name despite never having met her, that's just weird in and of itself."

"Most of the time dreams aren't logical," John assured her, gently squeezing her hand. "Wait, you dreamt of her name?"

"In the dream, she said her name was Vera, just as my mum said her name was Cora, and my dad introduced himself as Gordon," she blinked, trying to make sense of the entire thing. "Oh, it's making my head ache!" Maggie slid down under the covers and turned over on her side, fully intending to go right back to sleep.

John, not willing to press any further, did the same.

**ooOoo**

_BRING!_

Maggie groaned, slowly lifting her head toward the sound.

_BRING!_

Go away, I want to sleep!

_BRING!_

Oh for God's sake!

"Hello!" she picked up and growled into the phone.

"Well good morning to you too, Miss Chisholm," the Brigadier's dry sense of humour was visible even through a mouthpiece.

"Brigadier!" she immediately sat up in bed, set the phone on her shoulder and grabbed a housecoat with one hand. "What's the trouble?" she finished putting on her housecoat and shook John's shoulder, silently willing him to wake up.

"We need both you and Sergeant Benton here right away."

"We?" she shook John's shoulder again, hissing for him to wake up under her breath.

"Yes, myself and the Doctor," he explained.

"Yes, yes," she stood up and turned around, getting herself tangled in the phone cord. "Shit!"

"I beg your pardon?" she could almost picture the Brigadier leaning forward in his chair.

"Nothing sir, just tangled in the phone cord. When do you need us there?"

"Within the hour, and I suggest you two hurry."

"Yes sir, goodbye," Maggie set the phone down and tried to untangle herself once more, to no avail, all the while hitting her shin on the side of the bed. "God damn it!" she clenched her teeth.

She heard John chuckle.

"I'm glad you find this so hilarious, John Benton," she chastised, finally untangling herself. "Because we need to be at UNIT HQ in less than an hour. Seems the Brigadier and the Doctor need us there straight away."

And John was up and into the bathroom like a shot, showering and dressing in record time. Maggie had only ever seen a man dress that fast if they were ready for battle. In fact, just before Culloden, she could remember her father, Alec, being able to put his kilt and plaid on standing up, which, with so much fabric, was no easy feat. And that fateful day he'd kissed her, her brother, and her mother goodbye as he went off to go fight for Prince Charlie alongside her Uncle Jamie and her Uncle Seamus, Alec's brother. Alec had come home bruised, bloodied, and ill beyond measure, but nevertheless he'd come home. She could still remember seeing him collapse in her mother's arms out of pure exhaustion and relief. Uncle Jamie hadn't come back at all, not right away at least, and she never saw Uncle Seamus again. The only thing she could think of was that he had died during the battle, or had been captured and sent to the Indies. For his sake, she hoped Seamus had died on the moor.

By the time John had finished, Maggie realized that she was still in her nightclothes. Showering and dressing just as quickly, they each grabbed a bit of toast and were out the door, racing as fast as they could to UNIT HQ.

Getting into the building was easy, but once they met up with the Brigadier, he did not look impressed.

"Fifteen minutes, Sergeant, Miss Chisholm," he admonished. "You should have been here in ten."

"We're not miracle workers, sir," Maggie protested. "You told me within the hour, and here we are. What's the emergency?"

"The distress call from Axapta is much stronger, my dear," the Doctor turned around, and quickly turned back to the scanner. "And they're headed this way."


	7. Crash Landings

**ninewood: Aye, that they do. You never know what may happen if you're not careful when using the stove (smiles)**

**A/N: A little bit of sexual content, but other than that, no other warnings. And please feel free to leave a review, the door is always open.**

**ooOoo**

_I'll tell you one thing about the universe though. The universe is a pretty big place. It's bigger than anything anyone has ever dreamed of before. So if it's just us… seems like an awful waste of space, right? - Carl Sagan._

"This way? You mean, to Earth?"

"Yes Maggie, that's exactly what I mean."

"Is there any way we can divert them?" the Brigadier asked of the Doctor, wondering why he even got out of bed this morning.

"What? And miss this opportunity?" the Doctor looked almost scandalized. "My dear Lethbridge-Stewart, why divert a people who have sent out a distress call? Surely a distress call means a cry for help, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"So then perhaps we should let them land here and see how we can help them," the Doctor answered. "What do you think, Maggie?"

"About what? Axapta? Well I don't know anything about them, how could I form an opinion?"

"Well not exactly an opinion on the Axaptan people as much as what we should do once they arrive."

"Why not talk to them? See what they want, or need, as the case may be."

"Good idea," the Doctor agreed, turning back to the scanner revealing the distress call. "Now then, let's see where they land, shall we?"

"You won't have to wonder," Maggie back away.

"Hmm?"

She pointed to the middle of the room, where a figure seemed to be materializing. It was of average height, dressed in some sort of elegant robe, and… wait a minute, were those wings?

Once she'd appeared, Maggie saw her stumble a little, unsure of her surroundings.

"Ah, you see," the Doctor smiled. "There's your threat."

"I assure you, I am no threat," the creature held her head high, forcing her eyes to focus. "I come to you in search of help, gentlemen and lady, nothing more."

The Brigadier's eyes were wide. "Do you have a name?"

"In my language, you could not pronounce it," she answered as Maggie stepped forward with a chair for her to sit in, at least until she got her breath back. "However, for the sake of simplicity, I suppose you could call me Benny."

"Benny?" Maggie asked again for clarification as the creature nodded. "That was my brother's nickname. Makes it easier to remember."

"Yes, well," the Doctor cleared his throat. "Benny, where do you come from?"

"I am the Princess of the planet of Axapta," she answered. "I am here because I am in danger. The people have revolted, they have killed my mother, and I had no other option but to escape with my limbs still attached."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "Do you know why they have revolted?"

Benny looked at the Doctor, studied him closely. "You are familiar…" she deduced. "But your face has changed. Are you some kind of magician?"

"I assure you, madam, I am no such thing," the Doctor answered. "I am just a stranded traveler, same as yourself."

"And yet I remember you," Benny continued, a blank expression across her face. "You came to Axapta once, many years ago, but your face was different."

"I'm surprised you remember. You couldn't have been more than seventeen years old, if I recall correctly."

"And you had with you two companions," she continued, as though she were still a young child. "One man and one girl, and…" her eyes drifted toward Maggie. "The man looked like her."

"Me?" Maggie interjected. "How do you mean?"

"The same eyes, almost the exact same face," Benny told her. "I was very young then, but I'll never forget their faces."

"But what does that have to do with anything?" the Brigadier was growing weary.

"It went downhill after you and your two companions came to Axapta," Benny explained. "Once your female companion defeated the warrior who had killed over 400 in my mother's name…"

"What sort of society was this?" the Brigadier's eyes went wide. "Four hundred in your mother's name? Just how many wars have your had?"

"No it was not war, Brigadier," the Doctor answered for her. "If I recall correctly, Axapta is a gladiatorial hierarchy."

"Is there such a thing?"

"There is on Axapta," the Doctor answered. "I remember when I was there with Jamie and Bridget…"

"Bridget?" both Maggie and Benny looked at him at the sound of Bridget's name.

"The one who defeated the woman who'd killed 400 in the Queen's name was called Bridget," Benny interjected. "She fought gallantly. I've never seen such combat from a woman who was not trained."

"Wait, wait, stop…" Maggie stepped between Benny and the Doctor. "Doctor," she turned toward him and gently laid a hand on his jacket. "Doctor, surely you don't mean my Aunt and Uncle, Jamie and Bridget McCrimmon, do you?"

"Well, um…" the Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes Maggie. Yes that's exactly to whom I was referring."

Maggie stumbled backward in shock, John catching her around the waist.

"But… but…" she shook her head, shaking John off. "They never _told_ me about that. They'd have said _something_."

"My dear Margaret, would you have believed them?"

"Well she's standing right in front of me, isn't she?" Maggie indicated Benny, pointing quickly and dropping her hand. "If she's right in front of me and I have the ability to reach out and touch her, how can she not be real?"

"Yes that's true at any rate, but the question was, if you did not know what you know now, would you have believed them?"

"I think so," Maggie countered. "I always thought of it as the universe being a pretty big place, as I now know for sure, and if it really is just us, doesn't it seem like an awful waste of space? Why should Earth be the only planet with the ability to support life? For all we know we could be the universe's insane asylum…"

"Calm yourself, Miss Chisholm…"

"I am calm, Brigadier!" she nearly shouted. "What makes you think I'm not calm? In fact, I am _so_ calm I think I'll go and shoot a pigeon now! Excuse me…" she pushed past the group assembled in the laboratory and stalked outside.

John resisted the urge to follow her, instead deciding that he wanted neither a slap in the mouth or a fierce kick to the nether regions. He watched Benny with morbid fascination, asking her, at the risk of sounding rude, what exactly she _was_.

"I know I seem to look odd," Benny humoured him. "From what I understand I am a cross between what you would call a dragonfly and a fictional character you on Earth would call a fairy."

"Well no wonder you've got wings…"

"That'll do, Benton," the Brigadier snapped.

"Yes sir, my apologies, Miss."

"Not at all, Sergeant," Benny answered. "What about Miss Chisholm, I believe that's her name?"

"Oh she'll be alright," the Doctor assured her. "She's got a bit of a temper, woe betide anyone who crosses her. Much like her uncle, no doubt."

"Her uncle?"

"You remember the young Scotsman who used to travel with me, Brigadier? His name was Jamie."

"Yes I do, very well. Although I don't remember such a temper on the young man."

"I don't believe you ever saw him angry, my dear Lethbridge-Stewart."

"Angry? How so?"

"He and I once spent a night in a jail cell on Axapta," the Doctor explained to both the Brigadier and Benny, who had perked up at the mention of the planet she might never see again. "The entire night he ranted and raved and threw himself at the door trying to escape, simply because they'd separated us from Bridget."

"I don't believe I ever met Bridget."

"No you wouldn't have, dear chap," the Doctor leaned against the table. "We never came to UNIT when she traveled with us. Shame though, I'm sure you would have found her quite amusing."

"From what I remember she was very brave," Benny interjected. "A lesser woman would have turned away and cowered at the thought of having to fight, but not her. And I remember she had the most beautiful eyes…"

"I agree she was a very attractive young lady, but she was desperate for another life, and with it came the dangers of traveling with me. The whole reason we were locked in those cells was quite silly to begin with."

"What had you done?"

"Simply landed there by mistake," the Doctor shrugged. "Naturally the native population were wary of strangers and thought we were there to wreck havoc. They saw no other alternative but to lock us up for their own safety."

"But rest assured Doctor, we did not do that to everyone," Benny interjected. "What were they supposed to think when you turned up in a blue box that did not look big enough to house one person, let alone three?"

The Doctor could only stare at her.

"And how do you know about that, Benny?"

"I overheard them saying something about it once the woman, I think you said her name was Bridget?"

The Doctor nodded.

"Once she'd killed the other woman, and my mother let you go, everyone said they'd never seen anyone else do what Bridget did. They said she came out of a blue box with you and another man, and it was so small surely you had to be a sorcerer."

"I assure you, I am not a sorcerer," the Doctor answered her. "Neither were Jamie and Bridget. None of us here are." It would not do to waste anymore time. "Now, Benny, if you could tell us what you need us to do to help you, I'm sure we could."

**ooOoo**

Maggie stormed across the grass outside, finally stopping and coming to rest under a tree. She had no idea why she was suddenly outside, and how she had gotten there. Once her mind cleared, she reasoned that she must have walked out there, but why?

But then she remembered Benny, and Benny's connection to her Uncle Jamie and Aunt Bridget. There was no way she could have any compassion for a woman (or creature, or whatever she was) who had been party to the torture. In Maggie's book, that was just as bad as inflicting the abuse yourself. In truth, she was furious with the Doctor as well. If only he had told her…

Then again, would she have believed him?

Yes, more than likely. Since coming to UNIT there was nothing left to really surprise her anymore. Until Benny left, however, she silently made the pledge that she would not be returning to UNIT HQ, the Brigadier be damned.

It wasn't long before she closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift away, waking only to see John sit down beside her, saying nothing.

Saying nothing but "I'll see you at home" in return, she got up and went to see the Doctor in the laboratory, noticing that Benny was conveniently away somewhere else. She would assume the alien princess was wandering around in the TARDIS, observing the sheer impossibility of such a machine.

"Could I ask you something Doctor?"

"Well you just did, although I'm sure I could stand another. What's on your mind?"

"It's Benny, Doctor," she admitted. "I just can't feel any sympathy for her situation, even if, as she claims, she's in danger. Her mother put you, and the two people I'm closest to through Hell and did nothing to stop it. That's just as bad as actually committing the act yourself."

The Doctor sighed and put his hands on her shoulders. "If you like, my dear, I can give you a few days off, just until this business with Benny is settled."

"But what about the Brigadier?"

"He can't say anything about it," he smiled at her. "Seeing as you're my assistant, and you work damn hard at what you do, I don't see why you can't have some time off."

It was Maggie's turn to smile. "Thank you Doctor."

He squeezed one shoulder in affection. "Go home to John."

She was so relieved she didn't even bother to correct him.

**ooOoo**

Returning home, she could barely remember coming in the door. All she wanted was John, and damn his eyes if he wasn't there.

By some miracle, he'd gotten home before her, and was standing in the bathroom washing his hands.

Maggie didn't even bother to ask how his day was, for she knew he was just as confused as she was, and they needed each other more than ever.

Jumping into his arms as soon as he had finished in the bathroom, they left a trail of clothing leading into the bedroom. They took each other savagely, each trying to pull the other into themselves.

"Look down," John demanded as he thrust once more, causing her to cry out. "Look down, watch!"

"I can't, I…" Maggie felt her eyes rolling back, her breasts bouncing as John thrust, an odd feeling between her legs. "Oh dear God…" she moaned as the flood came from between her legs, turning her entire body to jelly, her vision now blurry and electricity surging through her.

John's own release wasn't far off, his flesh hot against her as he moved to enter her once more. Rocking back and forth, he felt her arms hook under his, pulling him closer, until finally he could no longer hold back.

Spent and shaking just as badly, he moved off her and cradled her against his chest.

"Did you…"

She smiled slightly. "I think so."

Chuckling, they soon fell asleep in each other's arms.

**ooOoo**

It wasn't until a month and a half later that Maggie returned to UNIT. It had taken the Brigadier, the Doctor, and John six weeks to find out where they could send Benny, and how they were going to get her there. Maggie had wanted nothing to do with her, and the Brigadier, although not impressed with this course of action, granted her sick leave.

She had butterflies that morning, though the butterflies didn't make any sense. Why should she be nervous in going back to work? She'd seen the Doctor periodically, and he'd updated her on what was going on. But, she still had a small sense of dread going into work and having to catch up on so much.

Suddenly bile rose in the back of her throat. She only just reached the toilet bowl in time for her stomach to turn itself inside out.

"Congratulations John," she muttered, silently vowing to make him aware of this as soon as possible.

Or perhaps kill him, one of the two.


End file.
